


An Ode to the Past

by SalemDae_45



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Abandonment, Character Death, Child Abuse, Dysfunctional Family, Gen, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Series, Self-Reflection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-22 08:26:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6072138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SalemDae_45/pseuds/SalemDae_45
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was difficult for Daryl to remember his life before the outbreak. When he does, he rather forgets them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Ode to the Past

It was sometimes difficult to remember life before the walkers. Daryl remembers walking in circles, looking for a place to sleep when everything went to hell. He watched it all, with only twenty dollars in his back pocket, a pack of cigarettes, and a semi-awake Merle by his side.

Daryl thinks about his past when he was on guard, or couldn't sleep, or had nightmares again. Most of the memories were not pleasant while others were fragments of his imagination. He struggled to remember the good ones. Such as the time his mother gave him a puppy. She wanted something to keep his mind occupied as his Dad beat her in the other room. The puppy had lived for three months before his Dad shot him. Claims the mutt kept him up all night. 

It was the first and last time he had a pet.

Then there was the time Merle showed him how to play basketball. It was a hot, summer day. Their Dad was pass out drunk at the kitchen table and their Mom has been dead for two years. Instead of looking at porn, Merle took him outside and showed him how to bounce a ball. Daryl fucked it up a couple of times, but Merle was patient with him, a first since he was always short-tempered with him. A couple hours later, or until dusk, Daryl was able to beat Merle one-on-one. He still believed Merle let him win, but the smile on his face was priceless. They acted like brothers, actual loving brothers. It was the happiest day of his life.

Then Merle was locked up for stealing. He was fifteen and Daryl was nine. This wasn't the first time and it wasn't the last, but all Daryl remember was not wanting to be alone with their Dad.

And he was and it was hell.

Daryl hated his Dad. The old man was a monster who drink all the time. When the outbreak happened, Daryl called him. Part of him still loved him since he was his father. But he soon regretted it when his Dad yelled at him, cussing him out like he was trash.

"How about you go to hell, along with Merle." The line went dead.

Daryl knew his Dad was dead. But there was a chance he did survived the outbreak, still at the broken down house, drinking gin and smoking Marlboro cigarettes. He is probably drunk, watching the world go to hell as the radio playing in the background. He could picture the smug smile on his face, thinking he escape the fate of his sons who he thought were dead. He laughs as he realizes there are no more beer or cigarettes and he was alone. 

No one to check up on him. No wife to beat up. No children to care. Nothing but his fat ass.

Daryl knows that's not a memory but more of an ideal imagination, a fate his Dad might have suffered as a walker eats him. 

Besides those memories, Daryl had none. Before the walkers, he was just another white trash hick who had no place to call home. In this life, people admired him. People actually cared about him. And, in the depth of his heart, people who loved him. He wasn't a wanderer. He was part of a group. And it felt good to be loved, like a precious china doll or something like that.

Daryl knew the future was grim. He knows that one wrong move and he will become a walker. He tries so hard not to think about it, but it was hard. It was hard to deal with death and see it every day and wonder when it will come for him. When it comes to those he loved. But, in a strange, sick way, it was better than the old days. Better than being dead inside. 

Staring at the fire, Daryl sighed as he pulled the covers over him. It was better to bury the past and focus on the present. The past cannot protect him and he rather have it that way.


End file.
